


Phonic Interludes

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-04
Updated: 2004-01-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: It wasn’t the brevity that shocked him – Viggo never wasted words, they were too precious – but the message itself. No ‘hey, it’s been a while,’ no ‘I was thinking of you,’ not even a ‘goodbye.’ Never a goodbye.





	Phonic Interludes

**Author's Note:**

> For the [](https://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/profile)[contrelamontre](https://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/) ‘not-a-songfic’ challenge. Lyrics from “Taste in Men” by Placebo. Written in one hour and twenty-nine minutes. Ha!

“You have…one…message.”

Orlando hit the button and walked away, reaching for the stack of mail he’d dropped on the counter on his way in. The voice from the machine snared him, made his fingers curl away from the envelopes and fall to his side.

“Come back to me a while.”  
  
He sat down hard on the couch, blinking at the telephone, which flashed its light at him but provided nothing more. It wasn’t the brevity that shocked him – Viggo never wasted words, they were too precious – but the message itself. No ‘hey, it’s been a while,’ no ‘I was thinking of you,’ not even a ‘goodbye.’ Never a goodbye.

He sat thinking for a few minutes before standing and walking to the counter. The machine remained staunchly unrepentant for having upset the entire course of his day.

He hit delete.

* * *

“Hello?”

“What are you wearing?” Dom’s voice purred into his ear, low and husky.

“A t-shirt and a pair of jeans,” Orlando answered after a brief pause, grin spreading across his face. “It’s a boring day. You?”

“A three-piece suit,” Dom replied smugly. “It’s a boring day.”

“Change your style again?” Orlando asked idly, shifting stacks of papers and books and discs until he found a place to sit. “Last time we talked, it was a sequined evening gown and tennis shoes.”

It was hard to see Dom in either of those combinations; but Dom was one of those people who didn’t like to disappoint, and who always had an answer for everything. It was a quality that Orlando occasionally envied.

“I had a date,” Dom sniffed, and Orlando could feel the devil-may-care smirk through the telephone line. “What’s going on?”

Orlando hesitated, one hand hovering over an old magazine. He shoved it to one side and squirmed into a comfortable position on the chair. “Viggo called,” he offered mildly, hoping that Dom wasn’t in one of his perceptive moods.

Apparently he was, because Orlando had time to count the seconds of silence before Dom spoke again. “What did he want?”

_Come back to me a while._

“Nothing, really. To get together.” His free hand found the cool glass of the coffee table and traced fingertip-smudge patterns on the surface.

“What did you say?” Dom asked, tone echoing Orlando’s in its feigned indifference.

“Nothing. He left a message.” He waited a second before feeling compelled to continue. “I deleted it.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you going to give me a speech about how avoiding issues doesn’t solve them?” He put a smile into the words, nervous energy almost releasing itself in a strained laugh before he choked it back and swallowed.

“Nah. You’ve heard it before.” Dom sounded distracted, and Orlando waited patiently for his next words. A shuffle, a moment of silence, and then Dom said, “Can I call you from the house phone? My cell is dying.”

Orlando blinked, surprised by the shift in gears. “Yeah, sure.”

“Ta,” Dom replied cheerfully, and hung up.

* * *

The phone rang a second later, and he picked it up without thought, twirling the cord around his finger. “Hello?”

“You’ll never guess who this is,” said the voice on the other end of the line, and for a moment Orlando had absolutely no idea, because it wasn’t who he had been expecting. Then the familiarity of the voice tickled his memory, and he exhaled with another grin.

“Elijah. I should have known he would call for help.”

“Yeah, well. I’m supposed to be the sensitive, understanding one. You know we love to tag-team.” Elijah’s voice was bright and relaxed. Orlando thought reflexively that he must have had the day off, to be in such a buoyant mood.

“He’s just using you,” Orlando mock-warned, unable to maintain his cloud of depression with Elijah chirping at him. “You know I never would.”

“Oh, I know.” Elijah snorted, but there was a giggle hiding beneath his words. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it before.”

“Change your taste in men,” Orlando purred suggestively, and the giggle exploded into being, infecting Orlando with its warmth.

“I’ll consider it.” Elijah didn’t even take a pause for breath before switching tracks. “Talk to me.”

Orlando closed his eyes, leaned back until his head rested against the chair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Elijah asked, and Orlando heard the pop-crackle of a cigarette lighter in the background. “Has he asked before?”

“Once or twice.” Not since the last time, though, and Orlando had thought it would end there. He should have known better. With Viggo, it never really ended.

“And you keep taking him up on it.” Not a question; Elijah knew enough about him and Viggo to ascertain the reason for his reticence.

“Yeah.” It’s always good, he can’t deny that. It’s just never enough, and every time it leaves him gasping for air and a Viggo who’s never there.

“You know how this ends, Orli,” Elijah offered contemplatively, and Orlando heard the hiss of an exhale as he blew smoke. “All you really need to do now is decide whether it’s worth it.”

* * *

Orlando hesitated before calling, but his mind kept circling back to the inevitable. If he didn’t talk about this, he wouldn’t be contacting Viggo with a clear head. And he really couldn’t afford that, this time. What he really needed was to spill everything to Elijah and then wait for a verdict.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dom…” Orlando hesitated. He didn’t want Dom to feel unwanted, but he had no real reason for calling other than talking to Elijah. And there wasn’t really a way for him to talk to Dom about this.

“He’ll be back any minute now. Want to chat while you wait?”

“What?” Orlando laughed, a mix of nerves and relief. “How did you know?”

“You’ve got that ‘I need to have a serious talk’ tone, and that’s Elijah’s territory.”

 _Tag-team,_ Orlando thought.

“So what’s up? Anything exciting going on at your house, on this fine winter’s day?”

“I’m watering the plants,” Orlando offered, smiling as he tipped the can. “I figure that they should be fed at least once a year.”

“How’s the great weed?” Dom asked, and Orlando shook his head.

“It’s a dianthus, and not very well.” He glanced over at the windowsill, where crumbled brown leaves wilted over terracotta. “Kind of brown and…dead.”

“It can’t be totally dead,” Dom replied. “What happened?”

“It’s been this way since…”

“Christmas day,” Dom supplied with an air of nostalgia. “When Elijah dumped three shots of tequila in it.”

“I thought we got it all out,” Orlando replied, peering at the leaves. “But apparently not. How was your New Year’s?”

“Not bad.” Dom’s accent changed slightly, the way it did whenever he was about to tell a joke or a story. “We took Sean clubbing and he dirty-danced with Elijah.”

“You did not.” Orlando realized that he had frozen in shock, and one of the African violet pots was now overflowing. “How the hell did you manage that? You must have had him dazzled…”

“Doused in gin,” Dom corrected. Orlando could almost see the wickedness in his grin, the sparkle of triumph in his eye. “Drunk off his arse.”

“Only you and Elijah,” Orlando told him in disbelief. “What did Christine say?”

“Nothing. We kept him over for the night, tucked him into the guest room with a bottle of asprin.”

“You two are so bleedin’ domestic,” Orlando accused, rinsing the leftover soil from his hands, angling the phone between ear and shoulder so that he could dry them.

“Tell me about it.” Orlando heard the jangle of keys and a soft thump somewhere on the other side of the line; Elijah must be home. “I think I’m going to leave him one of these days,” Dom continued. “Find someone who’s a little more fun to be with, you know, a little more wild…”

“Who are you talking to?” Elijah’s voice filtered through, and Orlando missed Dom’s reply. There were a few muffled noises, and then Elijah’s lovingly aggravated tone saying, “Hello?”

* * *

“Hey, ’Lij.” Orlando was abruptly tired, and couldn’t remember why it had been so important for him to call.

“Orli, what’s up? Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” He cast about for a way to introduce the subject, but Elijah cut him off.

“Is this going to be a deep discussion? Should I make room in my calendar for it?” He was in a good mood, Orlando could tell from the contented hum in his voice. “I have the end of January open if you need it.”

“I’m killing time on Valentine’s,” Orlando offered, relaxing and perching on the kitchen counter. “Want to come over?”

“It depends. What would we be doing?” Elijah couldn’t pull off seductive the way Dom did; his voice was still too light and amused. Orlando swallowed the innuendo that immediately sprang to his mind, saved it for another conversation.

“Waiting for the day to end.” He managed to twist something of a smile. “I hate that holiday.”

“Hmm.” A muffled clang somewhere in the background. “Sorry, I already have plans.”

“I figured you would.” Orlando was abruptly irritated by the fact that they were having this conversation over a telephone line. He couldn’t communicate with Elijah like this, without seeing his face. Elijah’s voice was well-schooled and even, the intonation of an actor. It was Elijah’s eyes that spoke.

“Orlando, you have two options. And we both know this is why you called, so don’t try to bluff your way out of hearing them.” The voice was stern, but there was exasperated affection in it as well. Orlando closed his eyes and pictured Elijah’s face, trying to match an expression to the tone.

“Okay,” he agreed meekly.

“One: Call him.”

Orlando started to make a noise of protest, but Elijah cut him off. “You know I’m right. This is never going to be straightened out until you decide you want it to be.”

Sometimes he hated the fact that Elijah was so perceptive. “And the second?”

Elijah sighed, and the face in Orlando’s head acquired a sad smile. “Change your taste in men.”

* * *

“Hello?”

“Hey, Vig…it’s me.”

* * *

 

_Come back to me a while_  
Change your style again  
Come back to me a while  
Change your taste in men  
It's been this way since Christmas day  
Dazzled, doused in gin  
I'm killing time on Valentine's  
Waiting for the day to end  
Change your taste in men 

\- Placebo, _Taste in Men_


End file.
